


The Herald of Whom?!

by chiogaru



Series: The Tale of the Reluctant Inquisitor and Savior Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Other, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiogaru/pseuds/chiogaru
Summary: The Conclave explodes - literally - and one lone Dalish elf survives, much to his (mis)fortune. Anyone surviving such a cataclysmic event, and a Dalish elf who also happens to be a mage at that, is bound to be suspicious.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I never really intended for Meldarion to be a bit of an ass, he just kind of turned out that way. Well, not to say he's a complete jerk, more of an ass with a heart of gold really.
> 
> And, ye God, this turned out much longer than expected...I just couldn't seem to find a good spot to end it, until I thought, "Screw it. Let's just end it here. I can always go back to add more, if I feel I need to, but probably won't."

Surprise. Shock. Anger. Fear. Desperation. And then pain...So much pain.

The sensations hit him before the actual memories do, although they're not much better, given the fragments he's able to recall. And they could barely be called even that. He had some vague memories of running from...something, and a woman had been there too, and then...well, nothing, just some big black void, until he'd woken up in what looked like some kind of Shemlen prison, a persistent and dull ache in his head, before he'd been clapped in chains and irons and dragged off to another room, forced onto his knees on the hard stone floor. Surrounded by more of them with some rather sharp and pointy swords poised at the ready. 

And then there's the matter of his hand. His hand is  _glowing_. Not just glowing either, it was crackling with some unknown energy, spitting up streaks of it like an uncontrolled grease-fire. And  _tingly_ doesn't begin to describe the sensation of whatever the hell is happening to it. He's a mage, and while he's aware of what that entails and what needs to be put up with as a result, a  _godsdamned glowing hand was not, is not, and has never been one of them!_

 _Calloniel, if I survive this, I am going to make you eat your words when I get back..._ Meldarion thinks bitterly. Go to the Conclave, she'd said. You are more capable than you think you are, she said. Just don't talk too much, and don't stand out. Ha! His very efforts to _not_ die had garnered everyone's attention by the looks of it. All these stories humans had about the ridiculous things the Dalish did to their prisoners, and any true Dalish elf could laugh them off as the fabrication of ignorant and fearful Shemlen minds.

If only the same could be said about the stories elves had about the things humans did to  _their_ elven prisoners. There may well be laughter, but it would be of the cower-before-me-while-I-take-pleasure-in-finding-out-where-to-stick-the-hot-pointy-poker-for-maximum-pain-and-minimum-damage-to-prolong-your-suffering-for-my-personal-entertainment variety.

 _I should be back with the clan, doing my duty as the First..._ No chains and irons, and angry looking Shemlen surrounding him back home, perhaps some angry elves, but they were clan and kin, and decidedly not out to end his life.

He risks another glance at his afflicted hand only for it to spasm once again as the green energy surges through it, causing an involuntary gasp to escape him, despite his best efforts to put up a strong and impassive front. It felt like his hand had grown a sharp set of teeth and wanted to devour itself.

It is around then that the door slams open and the angriest looking one of them yet storms into the darkness. Even in the gloom, Meldarion is able to make out the stern set of her jaw, and the confidence in her stride...

Here is a woman used to command, and having them obeyed...She'd probably snap his neck or stab him, if he didn't watch what he did or said in probably the next five minutes or so, potentially less, if his overall experience with Shemlen treatment of elves was any indication. But, he reminds himself, the fact that they haven't killed him yet, means something. It means that he had something they wanted...Information probably. Probably something to do with his hand...and, he has the strong and sinking suspicion, something much bigger he probably doesn't want to know about but will regret to learn of shortly.

It also means that there is a high chance of death the moment they got whatever it is they want from him.

He'd have to play his cards very carefully. And even then, many of the immediate moves seem to lead him down a path of death, with the bright side being that some of them would be less agonizing than others.

The first woman doesn't speak, at least, not immediately, she walks around him first, an act of intimidation no doubt. Have him sit there for as long as possible to stew in his thoughts of the awful things they could do to him. A second woman enters soon after, this one wearing a hood, and she appears...calculating, rather than angry. Which makes her far more dangerous than the first as far as Meldarion is concerned.

And the way they're all just looking at him, he can't stand it at all. This entire situation is dredging up some memories he'd much rather forget...

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." A much deeper voice than he'd expected from a woman asks from behind him. The accent isn't one he's encountered before either, with his clan mostly roaming the Free Marches, and trading with smaller towns and villages, they didn't get to interact with very many people of other parts of Thedas.

He bites back the first retort that had unthinkingly made it's way to the forefront. He doubts that,  _"Because I'd rather you didn't."_ would be met with the most positive of reactions, and even though the other Shemlen with the swords had backed off, the one who currently has him at her mercy, he'd started thinking of her as the Angry-One, as well as her red-haired companion, would likely cut him down without a moment's hesitation.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead." Angry-One declares as she circles back in front of him, and he notes the slight tremble in her voice, but the look in her suggests this is mostly brought about by pent-up rage fueled by grief, "Except for you."

_"And there we have it. The Accusation. Blame the Elf. He's Dalish. Probably eats Human babies for breakfast, and spends his evenings dancing naked through the woods bathing in their blood."_

It's amazing what people are prepared to believe.

And, while he'd expected that whatever had happened at the Conclave had been  _really bad_ , he didn't think it'd been that-

 _"Everyone?"_ He blinks, but he's still alive, so that can't be...Realization hits him hard and fast like a punch to the gut.  _"They think **I** did it...They think _ ** _I_** _killed all of those people..."_

The very thought, or suggestion of it is insane! Well, yes, Dalish-Human relations haven't been at their peak, but to honestly suggest that he could be willing and capable of such a thing just because he happened to the be...the only survivor...with...a...weird...energy-laden...glowing...hand...

_"Shiiiiit."_

Meldarion had been too caught up in his own inner dialogue to properly respond to what Angry-One had said, and is brought back to reality by the sudden jerk of his glowing hand.

"Explain this." She demands, the lack of light casting sharp dark shadows across her features, before they are illuminated in green, when another smaller surge of energy bursts from his hand.

"I can't." The who is most likely the former-First of clan Lavellan finds himself admitting.

Unfortunately, and predictably, it is not the answer Angry-One had been looking for.

"What do you mean, you  ** _can't_**?!"

"It means what it means. I don't know what that is, or how it got there!" He declares a little more heatedly than he should have, given the tension in the room, and all those within it, but Meldarion is losing his patience. He's tired, in pain, can't remember the last time he'd eaten, and above all, extremely frustrated by his lack of understanding of just what it is that's going on.

"You're lying!" Angry-One hisses, grasping him by the front of his tunic as she starts shaking him, causing his headache to flare up.

"I can see up your nose from this angle." Meldarion is horrified to find the words leaving his mouth, his subconscious seeming to have an apparent death-wish very much at odds with his conscious desire for survival and self-preservation.

One of her hands releases him, and he is certain it's grasping for a dagger to end his existence, had the Red-Head not stepped in at this crucial point.

"We need him, Cassandra." The words are cool, calm...and firm, as she pushes the Angry-One - Cassandra, Meldarion is a little disappointed to learn, as he felt his own name for her to be much more fitting - away with one hand to her breastplate. It's the first she's spoken, and while the clan had never ventured that far, he'd encountered a few merchants to know an Orlesian accent when he hears one.

That at least confirmed the reason he hadn't been executed on the spot. Elves don't usually get a trial, if a Shemlen believed you to be guilty. They need him for something, and he's fairly certain that whatever strange phenomenon has taken over his hand likely has something to do with it.

"Bad enough I'm being falsely accused by a bunch of Shemlen, but it has to be Shemlen with funny accents to boot..." The Dalish elf sags internally, apparently some part of him really is suicidal.

The sound of a blade being drawn slowly from its scabbard has Meldarion mentally preparing a prayer to Falon'Din.

"Cassandra!" The reprimand is sharp as the Orlesian Red gives Cassandra a pointed look, and gives him a look of warning that promises plenty to regret later, if he does not learn to comply very quickly, "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Too exhausted to care much at this point, Meldarion opts for honesty, "I just remember running,  _things_ chasing after me and then..." He frowns trying to think past the headache to recall anything beyond the vague shreds of memory he'd grasped upon his awakening, "A woman, I think..."

"A woman?" Orlesian Red repeats, Cassandra the Angry-One had resumed pacing around him, making him think of a she-Wolf stalking its prey.

"She reached out to me, and then...I don't know. I **_can't_** remember anything else."

"Go to the Forward Camp, Leliana, I will take him to the Rift." Cassandra informs the Orlesian Redhead - Leliana, Meldarion now knows, but the name appears to suit her better than Cassandra suited the Angry One.

And wait...Wait. Wait.  ** _Wait!_** Leliana had nodded and left. Just left him trapped in his restraints with an unstable She-Wolf in Shemlen form! This Cassandra would likely use the opportunity to murder him first chance she got!

_"Calloniel, if I die, I am finding a way to come back to haunt you!!!"_

Meldarion holds his breath as Cassandra approaches him, for a moment not daring to speak as she unlocks and unclasps the heavy irons. It is only when he is certain she's not about to slit his throat that he risks a hesitant question, "So...Uh...What _did_ happen?"

"It...will be easier to show you." Cassandra answers cryptically.

Oh, wonderful. Cryptic answers always promised something horrifying in the end.

The Dalish Elf bites back a wince as he awkwardly rises to his feet, pain biting into his legs from kneeling for so long. He makes a show of rubbing at his chaffed wrists as best he can with them still being held together by coils of rope as he follows Cassandra out into the cold light of day, which is too bright after having sat in darkness for who knows how long, and he squeeze his eyes shut just until the moment passes.

And when he opens them, they are automatically drawn to the sky, and his breath seems to freeze in his lungs so that he cannot even manage a gasp. And before his mind can even form the question of,  _"What the hell **is** that?!"_

Cassandra answers it for him, "We call it the  _Breach_ , it's a massive Rift into the World of Demons that grows larger with each passing hour."

 _"Oh, fuck, we're all going to die!!!"_ He whimpers internally, but doesn't let that show, because, if he is going to die, he isn't going to allow anyone to witness that he did so as a pathetically terrified wailing mess. Even though, technically, there would be no witnesses to tell the tale. But it is the principal of the matter.

A sentence with that many emphasized capitals and something ominous named the Breach, the tear in the sky, which he now notices is the same damn shade of electrifying green as his blasted hand, can only mean...

"It's not the only such Rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave." Cassandra goes on explaining remarkably calmly for what is likely the beginning of the end of the world, which meant she had enough time to adjust and get used to the idea, which Meldarion most certainly had not.

_"I wish I'd stayed home..."_

Not that it would have mattered by the looks of it...

"An explosion can do that?" The uneasy question leaves his lips, and suddenly very dry throat.

"This one did." Cassandra approaches him once again, "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

_"Well, I suppose this means that Calloniel will be able to keep me company after all...namely in the Afterlife."_

And while he'd been occupied with such pointless thoughts, his brain did the actual work of noting the word "We" in that sentence.

We, as in... _They_ wanted to work together with  _him_?

But before he can dedicate more time to actively think about this latest revelation, the  _Breach_ surges at the same time his hand does, and any pain he'd dealt with before, is nothing compared to what he's feeling now. The word excruciating would have been a laughable attempt to describe it. No, there were no words. Just pain, white hot mind-searing pain that causes his knees to buckle and tears a scream from his throat.

"Each time the Breach expands, your Mark grows...And it is killing you." Cassandra supplies helpfully, as though he couldn't have figured that bit out for himself, but she has the decency to at least kneel beside him as he recovers, rather than talking down to him, "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

"You say it may be the key...To doing  _what?_ " Meldarion gasps, trying to cradle his hand to his chest in some sad effort to alleviate the agony.

"Closing the Breach. Whether that is possible is something we shall discover shortly."

Oh, good. And here he thought they had an actual plan...

"It is our only chance, however. And yours."

"Perfection. We have a plan that might not even work, after which I'll most likely die, with an alternative of do nothing, and then we all die."

"That may well be the case." Cassandra agrees, which is when Meldarion realizes he'd said that last thing out loud instead of keeping it to his internal monologue.

"So, I don't really have a choice about any of this...And you  ** _still_** think I'd do  ** _this_** to myself?!" He waves his afflicted hand as close to her face as he dares, before he withdraws it with a hiss.

" ** _None_** of us have a choice..." She responds evenly with slightly narrowed eyes, before she grasps him by the back of his tunic and helps him onto his feet, keeping her hand on his back as she half leads half drags him through the makeshift camp. It is only now that he gets to take a proper look at her. She too has scars on her face, and there'd likely be more where he couldn't see them. Warriors usually had many of them. And...she had features that could be described as attractive, shame about the perpetual scowl that detracted from it somewhat. Mostly, she had the look of a woman, who could chew her way through iron, if she had a mind to it. Or look very comfortable in wearing black leather telling a certain type of man what to do, who would then happily comply.

He soon notes the stares, and glares he receives from the other Shemlen - men and women.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it." Cassandra explains.

"Yes, always easy to blame the Savage heretical Dalish Elf instead of trying to find the actual truth..." Meldarion mutters as loudly as he dares.

"The people of Haven mourn our most Holy, Divine Justinia." She continues, ignoring him, "Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars."

"Well, that pretty much hit the windmill, didn't it?"

Cassandra tightens her grip on him, forcing him to walk faster, "She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead." They come upon a gate at this point, which is opened for them at a nod from the woman, who is on the verge of forcing him to walk on his toes, "We lash out, like the Sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did."

"Could've fooled me..." Meldarion mumbles under his breath, and feels Cassandra finally release him, allowing him to walk on his own.

"...Until the Breach is sealed."

"Oh." Which could very well mean that even, if he did somehow manage to close this Breach, they would still execute him for whatever crime they claim he committed.

Cassandra unsheathes her dagger, and the Elf involuntarily holds his breath. It takes him a moment to realize she intends to cut the rope from his wrists, and not, as he'd long feared and expected, stab him a dozen times.

"There will be a trial. I can promise no more."

"And Dalish Elves are likely to have a fair trial with Human judges, are they?" Meldarion looks her in the eye as the ropes fall away, and he rubs life back into his wrists.

She does not respond immediately, and when she does, she ignores his question entirely, probably because they both already know the answer, "Come. It is not far."

"Where are you taking me?" He demands, no longer as guarded in what he says now that he knows he's likely a dead man regardless of what happens.

"Your Mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach." Cassandra responds nodding towards the other gate at the other end of the bridge they're currently standing on. Which didn't truly answer his question, but at least meant they were getting somewhere that isn't here. Snow is falling and dancing around them, which seems ridiculous in light of the potential "End of the World" scenario about to crash in around them. As they walk up the bridge, they pass a group of men and women clad in an assortment of medium and heavy armor, whilst what he assumes to be a Chantry Brother recites either the Chant or a prayer before them.

He supposes it only make sense to resort to religion in the face of the End. But, they need much more than prayer now. Prayer wouldn't get the bloody tear in the sky to mend.

"Open the gate! We are heading into the Valley!" Cassandra commands the men stationed at either side as they approach.

Once they make their way through, they eventually break into a light run onto the path leading up further and through the mountains. Neither of them speaking, there isn't anything else to say in this particular moment, just something they need to get done. They're making good progress until the blasted Breach surges again, and once again the pain shoots through his hand, dragging him to his knees with an agonized scream.

He is busy writhing on the ground when Cassandra approaches him, hauling him back to his feet yet again, "The pulses are coming faster now."

"You have a real gift for stating the obvious..." Meldarion wheezes through clenched teeth.

Once again, she chooses to ignore his comment, urging him to keep moving with a gesture of his hand instead, "The larger the Breach grows, the more Rifts appear, the more Demons we face."

"And such an optimist too! How did I even  _survive_ the blast?" He doesn't know how much more of this he could take, what next? Ranting and raving about seeing dead people?

"They said you...stepped out of a Rift, then fell unconscious." Cassandra's tone suggests she found this difficult to believe, but that there had been too many sane people to have witnessed this act to disprove it as a mere hallucination.

"Were there any bright lights and singing?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"They say a woman was in the Rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

"Well, that we agree on at least."

"Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

"That's...too bad?"

Cassandra shoots him a look, "I suppose you'll see soon enough..."

And as is typical and mandated by the Universe, the bridge they'd been crossing to yet another gate is struck by an errant bolt of energy from the Breach high above them, causing it to crumble below their feet. Sending both Meldarion and Cassandra as well as the rock and stone that once made up the bridge tumbling towards the ground of snow and ice below.

Green flaming balls of fire that would have inspired reactions of "Goodness" and "Gracious" in another more appropriate time and place, fall from the sky and drop around them to reveal Demons.

"Stay behind me!" Cassandra barks, sword drawn and shield up as she rushes ahead of him to deal with the threat.

Unfortunately, she'd failed to notice the manner in which the ground behind her was boiling and bubbling black, and spitting up green light, which promised that something  _very bad_ is to happen much sooner rather than later. His hands are unbound, and he could probably manage a spell or two before whatever the heck boiling below the surface burst forth and overwhelmed him. But he'd had enough of chance and fate, and desperately looks around for something he could use to defend himself. Hell, he'd settle for a really sturdy stick or branch! But...There! Right next to a crate, of all the weapons that could have been lying around minding their own business, he finds a staff...A mage's staff! He'd have spent more time frowning at it suspiciously, it was just a little too convenient to have the exact type of weapon he'd needed just lying there...

But there is no time, the bubbling boiling mass of ground had just birthed some green spikes and a shriek, which brought unbidden the words,  _"Congratulations! It's a Demon!"_ to mind.

He grabs the staff and braces himself for battle, which is just as well, because the Demon is past bracing and lunging towards him, forcing Meldarion to spring back, swinging the staff down with a burst of magic missiles to keep the creature at bay, and better yet, at a distance. He'd seen Demons before, in the Fade and in Dreams that were more real than they should have been, the ever present danger to any Mage...But, even he has never had to fight and face off against one of them quite like this before, and most certainly not outside of the Fade.

Most of his fighting experience was facing off against wild and crazed animals, and more often than not, Shemlen bandits. And those aren't usually in the habit of bursting into flame or shooting ice. Thankfully, this Demon isn't currently doing either, but it is still snaking and slithering along the ice much faster than he wishes it would, which would be not at all. A well-timed ice spell freezes it, allowing him to get several more blasts of elemental magic in before it breaks free, and by the time it does that, Meldarion can tell it won't take much more to banish it completely.

He underestimates how quickly it would be able to move after breaking free from the ice, and it manages to land a glancing blow on his arm, which while not serious, is enough to send him sprawling, and scrambling frantically back to his feet, whilst keeping the staff between himself and it. There is a brief moment when he thinks that maybe, just maybe he might have misjudged his abilities, when one last spell and a spin of his staff finally sends the thing shrieking and crumpling in on itself.

A little more out of breath than he should be, and heart beating madly against his chest, Meldarion looks up in time to see Cassandra put an end to the Demon she'd been facing with a confident thrust of her blade through its chest.

And seeing no other Demons within their immediate vicinity, he approaches her with a reassuring, "It's over."

Only for that to go over as well as expected, when she immediately turns her sword on him, "Drop your weapon. _Now_."

"Oh, fine!" Meldarion snaps, he's just had about enough of this, "It's not like I even need a bloody staff to fight, do I?!"

"You don't  _need_ to fight."

The Elf stares at her incredulously, "Are you  _fucking_ serious?! Demons are dropping from the sky, and you say I don't  _need_ to fight?!"

Cassandra seems to consider this, as she sighs and begrudgingly sheathes her sword, "You're right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless." She turns to resume the path to the valley, only to look back once more to say, "I should remember you did not attempt to run."

"Only because running would be completely pointless at this point."

She gives him a level look, "You know, you  _could_ try to at least say something reassuring..."

"And you  _could_ try to at least give me the benefit of the doubt! I know you still think I'm responsible for all of this!"

"Are you?"

"No! I mean, I don't think so, I  _can't_ remember anything!"

"Many Elves, Dalish Elves in particular, bear grudges against humans..."

"I am not some  _crazed_ fanatic! I didn't even want to be here! And my clan trades with humans on a regular basis! I can't even believe we're having such a stupid conversation!" Meldarion tries to put a clamp on his flaring temper, this isn't the Keeper he's arguing with here. "You're human! Do you go around hunting Elves for sport, collecting their ears for trophies?!"

Cassandra's mouth thins into a grim line, "We don't have time for this right now..." But by the way her eyes are flashing, she's trying to control her temper herself.

And that, is the last exchange of words for some time. Cassandra had wordlessly shoved some health potions into his hands when she'd come across them, and he'd accepted them with a grunt that could have been interpreted as thanks. They resume their run through the wind and snow, both picking up in intensity, and they encounter a few more demons, which they dispose of with limited difficulty and argument now that they're both mentally prepared for what needs to be faced and done.

Until, they reach a flight of stone stairs, and an ominous green glow that awaits them at the top, "We're getting close to the Rift! You can hear the fighting!"

"Who's fighting?" Meldarion gasps as they run up.

"You'll see soon. We must help them."

And the former First of clan Lavellan wonders, if he'll ever manage to get a straight answer to his questions before it all ends.

And it is once they reach the top, that the green glow turns out to be what had undoubtedly been referred to as Rifts, a much smaller tear than the gigantic one in the sky above them, but just as capable of spawning Demons, currently being fought. There isn't much time to get a good look at the others, especially since his and Cassandra's appearance seems to immediately garner some of the creatures' attention and they start slithering and floating towards them.

There are more Demons than they've encountered previously, but there are also more of them to fight them this time around, and another mage by the looks of the additional spells flying around. And just like that, the Demons are gone, and it's just the matter of the Rift hanging above them.

"Quickly, before more come through!" The other Elven mage commands, grasping Meldarion's wrist before he can ask just what the hell  _he_ is supposed to do about it, and raises it towards the Rift and - The Energy of the Rift seems to interact with the Energy from his hand, linking, the air around them crackling and alive as the light grows brighter and brighter and with one last surge, snaps and winks out of existence as if it had never been.

"What...What did you do?" The Dalish Elf asks once he feels he is able to talk without his voice cracking.

" _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours." The Other Elf responds, and Meldarion can't help but wonder, how he manages the cold weather without even a hat or a hood, considering the fact he has no hair to offer up at least some protection from the cold.

"You mean  _this_." Meldarion raises the hand with the Mark as Cassandra had been calling it.

"Whatever magic opened Breach in the sky also placed that Mark upon your hand." Other Elf continues to explain with a patient smile, "I theorized the Mark might be able to close the Rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake - And it seems I was correct."

It is on the Dalish Elf's tongue to ask where this "whatever magic" had come from in the first place, and how he had come into contact with it, but Cassandra interrupts with, "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

"Possibly." Other Elf acquiesces, "It seems you hold the key to our Salvation."

"Oh, hell...I never asked for this." Meldarion sighs miserably, he wasn't even supposed to be here!

"Good to know! Here I thought we would be ass-deep in Demons forever." A voice quips behind them, and the proclaimed Holder of the Key to Salvation turns to take in the Dwarf, who had said it. And who to him, was exposing an absurd amount of chest in the cold mountain weather, "Varric Tethras: Rogue, Storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." He declares casually, and at the last title, winks at Cassandra, who responds with a scowl and slight grimace.

Meldarion starts to like him already, and...Tethras...he had said Storyteller as in... _the_ Varric Tethras? Friend to the Champion of Kirkwall and famed author?! He would never admit to it, but he had pulled several strings and called a lot of favors to purchase a copy of the "Tale of the Champion" from a Shemlen merchant, and had read and re-read it almost religiously, before Calloniel had gifted him a slightly worn second-hand copy of "Hard in Hightown". He kept both books wrapped in oiled parchment paper in a box padded with furs locked and secure under the bench he usually slept on in one of the Aravels, along with a few other important Keepsakes, of course. And here was the man himself...

But, now is not the time to let him know he is a fan of his works...

So instead he settles for, "That's...A nice crossbow you have there."

"Ah, isn't she?" By the Dwarf's pleased reaction, this seems to have been the right thing to say, "Bianca and I have been through a lot together."

"You...named your crossbow Bianca?" Meldarion blinks uncertainly.

"Of course, and she'll be great company in the valley." Varric responds, as if this answered everything.

"Absolutely not!" Cassandra cuts in, "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore, you need me." The Dwarf interrupts and declares confidently.

Meldarion is fascinated, in his opinion, there is practically no benefit into volunteering to run headlong into danger like that...except for the fact that for as long as the Breach continued to exist and expand, safety would be in short supply...

Cassandra groans in disgust, which practically confirms it then, if she decided against it, Meldarion would with absolute certainty insist on him coming along, especially now that he knows his Mark  _is_ able to seal Rifts, and that he really  _is_ important and needed...for the moment at least. It also meant that his word holds actual sway and some measure of power.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live." Other Elf - Solas - adds now that Cassandra had gone to brood.

"He means, "I kept that Mark from killing you while you slept."" Varric translates.

"Oh." Meldarion's eyes widen, he hadn't even given that part any thought, but...someone must have attempted to tend to him between the time he allegedly walked out of a Rift to the time he woke up in a cell, "Ma serannas, Hahren."

Solas inclines his head, "Ah, a one of the People, I suspected as much when I saw the Vallaslin..." There seemed to be a touch of distaste around the last word, "But, thank me when he manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process."

"Yes, well..." Meldarion clears his throat, "You seem to know a great deal about all of this..."

"Solas, is an apostate. Well versed in such matters." Cassandra supplies.

"Technically, all mages are now Apostates, Cassandra." Solas counters, "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle Mage. I came to offer whatever help I could give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

The Dalish Elf supposes that there is sense in that, not much point in refusing help or refusing to help in situations such as these...And he feels slightly more reassured now that it's no longer just Cassandra and him.

"Cassandra, you should know. The Magic involved here is unlike any I have seen." Solas turns from him, back to the now slightly less surly female, "Your prisoner is a Mage, but I find it difficult to imagine  _any_ Mage having such power."

"Understood. We must get to the Forward Camp quickly." Cassandra nods and proceeds to continue down the path.

And Meldarion finds himself livid, "Wait, you just take  _his_ word for it, but _mine_ you brush aside?"

"Aw, don't take it to heart." Varric saunters up to his side, "Cassandra will warm up to you eventually, you should have seen the way she treated me when we first met, and now, she let's me run around as I please with only the occasional violent threat."

Cassandra's frustrated groan reaches their ears from somewhere up ahead of them.

"Well, Bianca's excited!"

And with that, their journey continues. A human Warrior, two elven Mages, and a Dwarf...Meldarion gets the feeling that at least one of the Elves ought to be a Rogue or Warrior themselves, and that they could do with a few more in their party...for some reason, the number nine keeps coming to mind, it seemed a decent number, not too small, and not too large.

"This way down the bank, the road ahead is blocked." Cassandra instructs as the rest of them follow.

"We must move quickly!" Solas adds less than helpfully.

Linked to the Breach and moving ever closer, Meldarion's hand twinges and throbs in time to the smaller pulses, and he'd rather avoid being flattened by another surge, only for them to come upon even more Demons moments later.

"Demons up ahead!" As if the rest of them couldn't see that for themselves.

"Glad you brought me now, Seeker?" Varric remarks perhaps a tad too smugly.

Whether Cassandra is glad or not isn't addressed as the Demons leave them little time for much repartee, and whilst fighting Demons isn't something Meldarion would ever describe as easy, having two more fighters on their side certainly makes it  _easier_. But not easy. By the end of it, he isn't the only one having to deal with the taste of Elfroot on their tongue, which could only be described as pleasant, if you were a sheep...or other grazing animal, as that is precisely what Elfroot tastes of.

And at the rate this is going, he'd either have plenty of time to get used to it or...well, he wouldn't need to worry much about the taste of anything ever again.

So far, the taste of grass proves to be the more welcome alternative.

"You are Dalish, and clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you?" Solas queries as they take a brief moment to recover before moving on.

"What do you know about the Dalish?" Meldarion may be glad for the added company, but he isn't about to just blindly trust anyone, and some of Solas' comments just don't sit right with him.

"I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion."

"What do you mean by ‘crossed paths’?" The Dalish Elf asks uncertainly, taking note of the way he'd said _your people_ , knowing well that there are clans that are a little less...receptive to receiving outsiders than Clan Lavellan is.

"I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition."

"Yes...that happens sometimes."

"Can’t you elves just play nice for once?" Varric shakes his head in mock exasperation, as they have by now resumed their path to the Forward Camp.

Meldarion is about to respond, when another flare-up causes him to groan suddenly instead.

"Shit, are you alright?" The Dwarf voices his concern.

"I'll be fine..." He responds through gritted teeth, and no one else offers up further comment, which is telling in itself.

They come upon more stairs...They're in the damn mountains, and there are bloody stairs all over the place, still, Meldarion supposes, it would be much more difficult without them, and much slower progress. And time is not on their side...

"So… _are_ you innocent?" While he'd enjoyed the way the Dwarf had irritated Cassandra, and admires his writing more than he's willing to admit, the Dalish Elf does not so much appreciate all the questions being directed towards him.

"I don't remember what happened." He sighs, hoping that people will stop asking him that.

"That'll get you every time. Should have spun a story."

"That’s what _you_ would have done." Cassandra admonishes, leaving Meldarion to wonder if there had ever been a time that the woman wasn't irritated.

"It's more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution." The Dwarf declares.

"I'm fairly certain I'd have ended up with a knife in the ribs, had I tried that..." Meldarion mutters.

"Well, not everyone's a natural storyteller..."

They continue on in silence for a little longer until Cassandra feels the need to break the silence, "I hope Leliana made it through all this."

"She's resourceful, Seeker." Varric seems to reassure her.

"We will see for ourselves at the Forward Camp. We're almost there." Solas adds, and it is something that Meldarion is grateful to hear, all this running up mountain sides and fighting off Demons is wearing him out, and he hadn't been in the best of conditions to start out with...And just when he thinks he might be able to catch his breath just a little bit...

Cassandra cries out, "Another rift!"

_"Oh, fuck me..."_

"We must seal it, quickly!" Solas supplies not at all helpfully in Meldarion's opinion.

_"We? What does he mean 'We', **I'm** the one doing the actual damn sealing!"_

"They keep coming! Help us!" A random soldier cries, well, the soldier himself wasn't random, he clearly had a reason for being there, but at this point, they all look the damn same to him.

Maybe the added irritation helped, because the Demons go down much faster than Meldarion thought they would,  _"Maybe Cassandra's always angry for this particular reason..."_

"Hurry! Use the mark!" Solas instructs even though the Dalish Elf is already in the process of raising his hand and the Mark to seal the Rift, and it seems to be easier now that he's already had a chance to do it, mostly because the Mark is doing the work really, he just needs to point and angle it right and...it just locks on and they draw on one another.

"The Rift is gone! Open the gate!"

"Right away, Lady Cassandra!" A soldier responds, possibly the same one, or another, how could anyone tell?

"We are clear for the moment. Well done." Solas praises, and too tired to formulate an answer at the moment, Meldarion simply gives the other Elf an acknowledging nod.

"Whatever that thing on your hand is, it's useful."

They could only hope it would stay useful long enough for them to seal the Breach before it killed him.

With the gates open, their party of four trot through them, and unsurprisingly, Forward Camp is mostly just a Bridge, with soldiers milling about trying to find a shred of order to keep amidst the chaos. Up ahead of them, Meldarion recognizes Leliana, who he can't help but wonder seemed to have gotten there so much faster than them despite having had just a short head start...That being said, she probably didn't have a bridge collapse under her feet and found a way to avoid Rift altogether.

She appears to be arguing with a Chantry Brother, at least, that's what Meldarion assumes, as the man is wearing the typical Chantry garb, which the Elf personally feels make him look a complete Tit.

"We must prepare the soldiers!" The Orlesian Redhead's tone of voice suggests that she'd been arguing this point for quite some time already.

"We will do no such thing." The Tit seems firm on whatever stance he's adopted, well, as far as Meldarion is able to hear and observe from a slight distance while he inspected what little gear he has and the others did the same.

"The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!" Leliana sounds more than a little exasperated now.

"You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility." Exercise in futility? With a gaping hole in the sky leading to a world of Demons and nightmares, there is no such bloody thing as an exercise in futility, you kept throwing whatever you had at it until you found something that bloody well worked!

" _I_  have caused trouble?" She appears to be downright incredulous now.

The Tit sniffs, and reminds Meldarion of the manner in which smaller animals would puff themselves up, and ruffle whatever fur or feathers it had to appear larger and more threatening than it actually is, "You, Cassandra, the Most Holy – haven't you all done enough already?" Did-Did the man just insult what was essentially the person Shemlen held in highest regard next to their God, the Maker?

"You're not in command here!"

"Enough! I will not have it!" The Tit's answer implying that counter to what anyone else might believe, he very much is.

The Dalish Elf moves forward once Cassandra has finished speaking to some soldiers and wrapped up what she needs to, motioning for him to stand by her side.

"Ah, here they come." The Tit proclaims imperiously.

"You made it." Leliana doesn't even bother to hide her relief. "Chancellor Roderick, this is–"

"I know who he is." Roderick the Tit - Roderick seemed a perfectly fitting name for what Meldarion rapidly believes to be an idiot - regards him in a manner that suggested he'd trod on things more deserving of his time and attention, "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

"I knew this would bloody happen..." The Dalish Elf mutters under his breath.

"'Order me'? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!" Cassandra looks as livid as he feels, and for once, the Elf is pleased to have her on his side, especially since she seems to be the one standing in the way of his death further down the Road provided none of them did any dying today.

"And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!" Roderick retorts.

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know." Leliana cuts in diplomatically, with Cassandra there to do the yelling now, she'd fallen back into her earlier role of the good sensible one.

"Justinia is dead! We must elect her replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter." The man had to be a little mad at this point, Meldarion decides, at the rate the Breach is spreading there'd be no time for such nonsense.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here." He finally growls, he hated the manner in which they kept talking over his head. It was like being treated like a child and being told to stand there quietly while the adults talk.

"You shouldn't even _be_ here!" The Tit snaps, "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

"We can stop this before it's too late." Cassandra's tone suggesting they were going to attempt to deal with the Breach regardless of what Roderick thinks or does.

"How? You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers." It was fascinating to see how determined the man was in his desire to do nothing.

"Better to try and fail than sit around waiting for death...like a coward." Meldarion mutters under his breath, and Cassandra shoots him a look.

"We must get to the temple. It's the quickest route." She goes on doggedly. 

"But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains." Leliana is quick to suggest an alternative.

"We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's too risky." Only for Cassandra to shoot it down.

"Listen to me. Abandon this now, before more lives are lost." Roderick preaches senselessly.

Just then, the Breach surges and expands once more and as does the mark on Meldarion's hand, however, it is nowhere near as strong as the last one, and he is able to remain standing as well as remain reasonably impassive to the pain, which is just as well, as he doubts it would help support their argument for going should he have collapsed there and then.

It is then and rather unexpectedly that Cassandra turns to him, "How do _you_ think we should proceed?"

For a moment, Meldarion finds himself dumbstruck, "You-You're actually asking me what _I_ think?"

"You have the mark after all." Solas supplies, as though it were only natural for him to have a say, and that he should have come to that conclusion himself at least one Rift and several Demons ago.

"And you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot agree on our own…" Cassandra sighs.

While it makes perfect sense for him to make this potentially life-ending decision, Meldarion being of a highly suspicious and paranoid nature, gets the feeling that they're only doing so in case it does blow up in their face, and they get to blame it on him. He quickly dismisses the option of charging in with the soldiers, he'd never been the charge in screaming with blades drawn type of person...far too risky, even if the soldiers would be the ones to do the actual charging. Which left the mountain path...not without risk either, but if it promised to avoid the bulk of the Demons and they could get to the Breach faster...

"We'll use the mountain path and work together. Just the fate of the world at stake is all." He gives the Chantry Tit a look that says he's encountered enough of his ilk to have any more time for his nonsense.

"Leliana. Bring everyone left in the Valley. Everyone." Cassandra orders, and Meldarion gets the feeling that if Gods really were in the habit of playing and gambling with mortal lives, that this would be on of those all-in double or nothing moments at the card table.

"On your head be the consequences, Seeker." Roderick intones with a shake of his head.

"It's not like we can actually make it any worse!" The Dalish Elf snaps after him.

"See, I wish you hadn't said that. Most of the time, someone says that, it usually does." Varric sighs.

 

They move on mostly in silence as the clamber over a snowy embankment and make their way up a very long ladder, leaving Meldarion glad he isn't afraid of heights.

"The tunnel should be just ahead. The path to the temple lies just beyond it." Cassandra advises, gesturing to somewhere up ahead of them.

"What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?" Solas asks, and the Dalish Elf notes his keenness for knowledge, he certainly seemed to respond well to having questions asked of him, it stood to reason he enjoyed asking them himself. He supposes that this is what people referred to when they spoke of scholars.

"Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths." Comes Cassandra's clipped response.

"And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?" Varric queries, with Meldarion reading into the unsaid of,  _"We're about to go into the tunnel that probably ate the soldiers, and know it, but we're going in anyway."_

"Along with whatever has detained them." Solas manages to put a little more tactfully, but does little to reassure anyone.

"We shall see soon enough." Cassandra says, and for the moment at least, the conversation ends with that.

Several ladders, steps and a wooden walkway later, their small party finally reaches the entrance of their pre-destination, which would hopefully deliver them to their actual destination in one piece with all their bits still attached.

The mining tunnels prove to be less treacherous than they'd feared. The ground remained solid beneath their feet, and while it did come with its share of Demons, there had only been a total of seven of them, and with the number they have fought already, they were able to dispatch of these with relative ease. Meldarion is, however, more than pleased to finally clear the end of the tunnel and back out into the cold mountain air...only to find three corpses right by the exit and no immediate sign of who or _what_ ever had done the actual killing.

Varric heaves a sigh behind him, "Guess we found the soldiers."

Cassandra scans the terrain around them, shaking her head, "That cannot be all of them."

"So the others could be holed up ahead?" The Dwarf remarks thoughtfully, and Meldarion wonders if it would be considered disrespectful, if he were to rifle through the  _ex_ -soldiers' armor and belongings for anything useful...

Until Solas intones, "Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe."

"I'm leaving _that_ to our elven friend here." Varric declares, giving the Dalish Elf a light nudge and a wink as he walks past him.

And they continue down the snow-covered rocky pathway lying ahead of them, only to find, and Meldarion is starting to no longer be surprised by this, a Rift and four soldiers fighting off four Demons.

"Lady Cassandra!" A soldier shouts.

"You're alive!" Is Cassandra's (probably) distracting response.

To which the soldier aptly replies, "Just barely."

The soldiers must have been really worn out for these Demons to have given them the trouble they did, luckily for them, they now have Cassandra to provide some much needed muscle, and three ranged combatants, two of them mages, no less.

It doesn't quite end there, with two more Demons being spawned after the vanquishing of the initial four, and these being significantly uglier than any of the ones they've faced previously...and able to teleport, Meldarion learns the hard way, when one seems to sink into the ground only to spring forth beneath his feet, knocking him over in the process as it screeches and makes every hair on his body stand on end. Luckily, Varric and Bianca send a few bolts its way, distracting it sufficiently for him to get back onto his feet and get at least a little distance between himself and it. After that, the Dalish Elf learns quickly - as is the case when one's life is on the line, one either learns quickly, or one dies - to look out for the telltale signs that indicate the blasted creatures are about to pull off their stupid party-trick, and he is successful in jumping away in time with a spell at the ready to catch it unawares.

Finally, after what feels like a lot of jumping and prancing about, the Demons are gone, and he offers his Mark up to the Rift, holding his breath as the now familiar energy fills and rushes through him, and the tear seals with a snap and burst of light.

Solas nods in approval and possibly praise, "Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this."

"Let's hope it works on the big one." Varric adds with a grin, but there is an uncertainty to it that Meldarion could have done without, but cannot fault him for.

Cassandra in the meantime had approached one of the soldiers, possibly the same one that had called out earlier, helping her to her feet.

The soldier speaks up gratefully, eyes on the woman before her, not even bothering to glance around at the rest, who had fought just as hard, and Meldarion, who had sealed the damn Rift right before their eyes, "Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don't think we could have held out much longer."

"Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant." Cassandra gestures towards him, "He insisted we come this way."

And...Meldarion doesn't quite know what it is, but that statement seems to be the start of something...a subtle shift.

"The prisoner?" The soldier seems shocked, more shocked than by what had just happened for whatever reason, "Then you…?"

"We have to get to the breach, and quickly." Meldarion interrupts eyes flicking from the tear in the sky to the Mark on his hand, "We don't have time for this."

"To the breach? I don't…" The Soldier goes on owlishly while the Dalish Elf is close to losing his temper yet again and on the verge of snapping a responds when Cassandra cuts in on time.

"The way into the Valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can."

The soldier nods, and manages a quick salute in Cassandra's direction, "At once.” and turns to the others, "Quickly, let's move!"

It was fascinating how much time people felt they could waste when they seemed in such short supply of it.

"The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well." Solas, who seemed to have taken the opportunity to look ahead of them, reports.

"Let's hurry, before that changes." Cassandra responds as the starts running down the path, with the rest of them following, and for once, Meldarion is in agreement with her.

Cassandra stops when they reach a ledge, and motions to the rest of them to go ahead of her, "Down the ladder. That's the way to the temple."

"Is this really going to be it now?" Meldarion questions, it seems to him they've been  _nearly_ there for quite some time.

"Eager to deal with the Breach, are you?" Cassandra raises an eyebrow.

The Elf shrugs, "Might as well, procrastinating isn't going to keep me alive indefinitely."

They make their way down the ladder, and continue down a second, until they reach a steep pathway covered with wooden boards, and there's...a feel to the air around here, and Meldarion wonders, if it's because they're nearing the Breach, or because he's a Mage.

"So… holes in the fade don't just _accidentally_ happen right?" Varric asks either to fill the silence, or because he too possibly can feel the wrongness around them and while speaking does not make it go away, it helps distract. Somewhat.

Solas takes it upon himself to answer, since neither Cassandra or Meldarion have much of an idea, and the other Elf seems to know everything, "If enough magic is brought to bear, it _is_ possible."

"But there are easier ways to make things explode." The Dwarf observes.

"That is true." Solas agrees, and seems content to leave it at that.

"We will consider _how_ this happened once the immediate danger is past." Cassandra inputs tersely.

"Agreed." Meldarion mutters, growing uneasier as they approach a winding path that would have lead to the temple, which now stands in ruins.

 

Solas announces this somewhat unnecessarily, "The Temple of Sacred Ashes."

While Varric makes the astute observation of, "What's left of it."

"That is where you walked out the Fade and our soldiers found you. They said a woman was in the Rift behind you. No one knows who she was." Cassandra explains falling intp step next to the Dalish Elf.

"So, there really  _was_ a woman?" Meldarion frowns as he asks, "I remember so little of what happened...I really wasn't lying to you, you know."

"That is what they say..." She responds noncommittally, and with a sigh, the Dalish Elf chooses not to prod further for the moment. 

At first when they approach, Meldarion mistakes them for statues, until they draw closer, and he realizes they are the charred remains of people, who had attended the Conclave caught in various poses of fear, surprise, and in the process of fleeing something they had no chance of escaping. Some of the corpses are still burning, the acrid smell stinging their eyes and throats. He tries not to notice the scattered bones on the ground. And he tries even harder not to count the number of corpses they pass.

_Calloniel could have been one of them..._

He goes cold at the very thought, and is, for the moment, relieved that he had gone in her stead after all.

Eventually, their eyes are drawn inevitably to the tear in the sky, hovering just above them, the air thick and alive with the strange otherworldly energy.

"The breach _is_ a long way up." Varric remarks.

Within moments, Leliana approaches them with some soldiers in tow, and once again, Meldarion is left to wonder how she got there so much faster, when he had taken the supposedly faster route.

"You're here! Thank the Maker." She exclaims, visibly relieved.

Cassandra seems completely unperturbed by the fact that the Redhead had beaten them once again, or feels it to be unimportant in light of the more pressing issue, "Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple."

Leliana merely nods and walks away to direct the soldiers as instructed.

Taking a deep breath, Cassandra turns to Meldarion, "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

Meldarion stares up at the Rift, uncertainty grips him...It's so much bigger than the Rifts he's sealed up to that point, and a tear that size could undoubtedly spit out more horrors than he's faced thus far, "I'm not sure how to even start getting up to that thing." He mumbles.

"No." Solas interrupts, "This Rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

"Then let's find a way down. And be careful." Cassandra determines, and are accompanied by Leliana as they walk up some steps, and follow a path that circles towards the Rift.

The Dalish Elf seems to withdraw from his surface thoughts and mind, as though he were another person looking in from the outside. It was a coping mechanism, and it helped him keep focus when he was under a lot of stress, as emotions didn't get in the way here. He was aware of having them, but they were a long way off, like the distant buzzing of a fly easily ignored. Keeper Deshanna had called it  _An or Sa Sil_ , place of one mind, or the oneness.

As they continue down the path, and near the Rift, he hears a voice, and for a moment, he's concerned that he may have been possessed, until he realizes that everyone else hears it too, and it's not just in his head.

"Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice." The voice is deep, and...does not sound friendly.

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra demands to know.

"At a guess: The person who created the Breach." Solas responds.

"You seem to have an answer for everything." Meldarion remarks flatly.

They move on, passing some archers that had positioned themselves in view of the Rift, and as they round the bend, there is Lyrium growing and protruding from the ground, but unlike anything he had ever seen before.  _This_ Lyrium is red, and it seems to visibly upset Varric.

"You know this stuff is red Lyrium, Seeker."

"I see it, Varric." Her response is sharp.

"But what it's _doing_ here?" There is an edge to the Dwarf's question, and Meldarion recalls reading mention of it in the "Tale of the Champion", however, Varric had never gone into too much detail.

"Magic could have drawn on Lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…" Solas theorizes, however, this does not appear to placate the Dwarf.

"It's evil. Whatever you do don't touch it."

And they all make a noticeable effort to edge closer towards the center of the path and away from the Lyrium, even if it meant nearly bumping into each other.

More voices echo around them.

"Keep the sacrifice still." It is the same voice as before, and is followed by...

"Someone help me!" A woman?

"That is Divine Justinia's voice!" Cassandra gasps.

They hurry down the rest of the path and finally reach some stone steps leading down into the ruins, after which they have no choice but to jump down into the pit, and as they approach the Rift, the Mark on Meldarion's hand flares and surges, accompanied by more disembodied voices.

"Someone help me!" The woman, Divine Justinia, shouts.

"What's going on here?" Another male voice calls out.

And Cassandra rounds on him, "That was your voice."

"It was?" Meldarion blinks uncertainly, "Do I really sound like that?"

Cassandra ignores him, "Most Holy called out to you. But…"

She is cut off by a bright flash of white light, upon which they stare on in silence, at the ghostly apparitions of Divine Justinia floating, her arms restrained by a red energy of some kind. And looming over her, menacingly, a large dark figure with glowing red eyes. It's more than a little disconcerting when Meldarion sees a ghostly version of himself appear shortly after.

"What's going on here?"

"Run while you can! Warn them!" Justinia pleads with his...ghost?

"We have an intruder." The dark figure observes, "Slay the Elf!"

A second flash of light causes the apparitions to disappear.

Cassandra is staring at him with her mouth open, "You _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

"I don't remember!" The vision had shocked him out of his focused state of mind, and he is almost in full panic, "I don't remember any of this happening!"

"Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place." Solas responds, but the explanation isn't doing much to reassure anyone, "This Rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the Rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

Meldarion groans.

"That means Demons. Stand ready!" Cassandra orders, drawing her sword, as everyone else readies their weapons.

Once the soldiers and archers are in place, she nods to the Dalish Elf, who takes a deep breath and positions himself below the Rift, and extends his hand with the Mark on it. The energies are drawn towards each other and connect, within seconds, the Rift is open, and something comes through almost immediately...

"Now!" Cassandra shouts as the largest Demon Meldarion has ever seen takes form and laughs before them.

Hulking and towering over them, its claws are as massive as its horns, and he tries very hard not to notice its mouth...and teeth.

"We must strip its defenses! Wear it down!" Cassandra calls out, even though it looks like everyone is throwing all they have at it, and Meldarion himself never stays in any one place long enough to avoid being trampled or otherwise eviscerated as the blasted thing can blast energy at them, and occasionally uses  _energy whips_ , which he would be impressed by any other time, except that these are being aimed at him.

This goes on for a while, until Cassandra shouts, "Quickly! Disrupt the Rift!"

Meldarion hasn't a clue what she's talking about, but relying on intuition, he leaps closer towards the Rift and holds his Mark out towards it, and it connects! The Rift doesn't seal, but it spasms, which seems to affect the Demon and sends it to its knees with everyone else attacking it with new fervor.

 

They don't have long to feel triumph in this moment as more Demons pour from the Rift, thankfully, much smaller, and much like those they have encountered previously, but they are still a nuisance and distraction from the Big One.

They follow this pattern about twice more, beating back the large Demon, Meldarion disrupting the Rift, more Demons fall out and so on...

Once they've finally brought the blasted thing to its knees for the final time, he does not even wait for Cassandra's "Now! Seal the Rift!" Already holding his Mark up to it, his hand actually jarring slightly with the ferocity of the energy coursing through him now, there is an intensity to it that almost causes him to forget everything but the feeling of it running through him, bright hot, and burning, burning, burning!

"Do it!" He only registers Cassandra's voice at the very edge of his awareness, it's too intense, it's going to burn him from the inside out! He screams a scream that's being wrung out of him, but through it, he manages to force out, "Ma ghilana mir din'an!", all there is is the light, the brightness...fire. And then...just like once before...

There is darkness.

(*Ma ghilana mir din'an - Guide me into death)

 

And just as before, he wakes up, but this time, he isn't in a prison, there's sunlight, and experimentally moving his arms and legs, no chains and irons he's aware of. Meldarion eventually sits up slowly in what turns out to be a bed he'd been lying on, in...what looks like a cabin and no guards with pointy swords in sight this time. He looks down at himself, and realizes the clothes he's wearing are completely different from the clothes and gear he'd had on, and...was this silk?! Checking himself further, not a trace of dirt, sweat or blood...and his hair had been washed and braided! He is somewhat horrified at the thought that a complete stranger had undressed him, bathed him, and dressed him again while he'd been unconscious. He is agonizing over the thought that someone had seen him in a state of...undress when he takes notice of someone entering the room, and he looks up sharply...

Which apparently startled the young elven woman, who had walked in enough to drop the box she'd been carrying. "Oh! I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"

Meldarion is confused, and isn't certain how to process what she'd said, "Why are you frightened? I don't think I've said or done anything to frighten you. What happened?"

Rather than calming and reassuring the girl, it only seems to upset her further, "That's wrong, isn't it? I said the wrong thing."

And this serves to confuse and alarm Meldarion further, "What? No! I don't think so–"

He trails off and falls silent when to his complete and utter horror, she falls to her knees before him, "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant."

"Don't do that...Please, don't ever do that again..." His voice is soft, and at a slightly higher pitch than it normally would be, but then, he'd apparently not died, and world had turned upside down.

If she'd heard him, she shows no indication as she continues, "You're back in Haven, my lord. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the Mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days!"

"Three days?!" He'd been asleep for three days? Oh, Gods, did this mean more than _one_ person could have undressed and redressed him in that time? But then, more important and relevant information makes it's way to the forefront, "The Breach stopped growing? And...you're saying…they're happy with me?" That couldn't be right, they'd been lining up to execute him!

The young woman was in such awe, she didn't dare straighten and was shuffling towards the door in a half-crouch half-bow, bobbing about like some strange species of over-sized bird, "I'm only saying what I heard. I don't mean anything by it. I'm sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you've wakened. She said 'at once'!"

Nothing Meldarion says seems to get through to her to set her at ease, so he gives up and stops trying, "And where is she?" He sighs.

"In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,' she said!", and with that the young woman flees the cabin, leaving the box she'd dropped behind.

Meldarion shakes his head, and gets carefully to his feet, swaying slightly after having been asleep for so long, he takes the time to get a good look at his lodgings. There isn't much else in the way of furnishing. There's a desk with some notes on it, which he ignores for now, and other bits and odds, which suggests all of it had been put together in a hurry. Curiously, he inspects the box that had been dropped, and finds some elfroot in it. Ah well, best not to let it just lie there, they'd likely send another elven servant to clean it up, and who knows how well that interaction might go? He takes the herbs, and picks up the box, setting it on the desk for now. He's somewhat nervous about leaving the cabin, uncertain as to what he can expect to find once he does, but...he reasons Cassandra would come drag him out, if he didn't go to the Chantry as advised.

So, he takes a deep breath, opens the cabin door and steps out into the crisp morning air...to find no less than twenty soldiers lining the path from the cabin further into the heart of the village, and...they were saluting...fists to their chests, saluting  _him_. The man they had been accusing of blowing up the Conclave and killing their Divine, the man they had wanted dead just days earlier. A Dalish Elf and a Mage, and they are  _saluting_.

He makes sure his mouth is shut before he walks down the path, trying very hard not to break into a run, and not to stand and stare at those surrounding him, especially when he realizes that in addition to the soldiers there must be at least another fifty people surrounding the immediate area outside of the cabin, craning to get a look at him, and what's worse is what he overhears as he walks past, causing him to nearly stumble and fall flat on his face.

"That's him." A man whispers with barely contained excitement, "That's the Herald of Andraste. They said when he came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over him."

A woman responds, "Hush!. We shouldn't disturb him."

 _Herald to whom?!_ A  _Dalish Elf_ , the  _Herald of Andraste_?! Just how deluded were these people? Oh, Creators, had he stumbled right into some freaky Shemlen Cult? 

He hears more whispering, as he keeps walking, "Why did Lady Cassandra have him in chains? I thought Seekers knew everything."

"It's complicated. We were all frightened after the explosion at the Conclave."

"It isn't complicated. Andraste herself blessed him."

He starts walking a little faster at that point, he'd started sweating with the effort to appear calmer and collected than he feels, as he grows more bewildered with each step he takes closer to the Chantry.

"Maker be with you." A man calls out, and he could swear there were some reaching out towards him, trying to  _touch_ him, and the  _look_ in their eyes. It's a little too much to take in, and Meldarion hurriedly looks away.

"Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste."

He passes what looks to be a shop, where one soldier salutes and about ten more stand at attention, and he gives them an awkward nod, not wanting to be completely standoffish, but hurries up the stairs to the left all the same.

"That's him. He stopped the Breach from getting any bigger." He hears a woman pipe up, speaking to another woman next to her.

"I heard he was supposed to close it entirely. Still, it's more than anyone else has done. Demons would have had us otherwise."

"Still a lot of Rifts left all over. Little cracks in the sky."

"He] can seal those, though – the Herald of Andraste."

"Someone had better. You won't seal those Rifts with the Chant of Light."

And both women, as he walks past them, "Walk safely, Herald of Andraste."

"Good luck sealing those Rifts."

He feels more than a little ill by this point, and isn't particularly cheered to find people kneeling towards him as he approaches the Chantry, with yet more people gathered to get a look at him, and more saluting soldiers.

 

There even is a group of at least a dozen Chantry brothers and sisters standing there in front of the Chantry, and instead of being affronted by his...non-humanness, the seem to be...well, looking to him as if he could answer their questions, solve their woes...That him being there would somehow make things right. This is not the kind of responsibility he wants to carry. Not when he'd inevitably disappoint them all.

More whispering amongst the Chantry sisters, "Chancellor Roderick says that the Chantry wants nothing to do with us."

"That's not Chancellor Roderick's decision, Sister."

"Most of the Grand Clerics died at the Conclave. Who will lead us now?"

"Andraste didn't have Grand Clerics telling her what to do, and she managed nonetheless."

"You expect us to be like Andraste?"

"Someone must."

With both of them addressing him just as he enters the Chantry, "Go in peace, Herald of Andraste."

"Maker watch over you."

He just nods numbly, and silently as he walks through the blessedly empty Chantry towards the door at the end of the hall, he raises his hand to the door, about to open it, when he hears slightly muffled voices arguing inside, and he pauses. Listening...

"Have you gone completely mad? He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine." Well, that certainly was the Tit at work, how is it that he managed to survive?

"I do not believe he is guilty." That would be Cassandra's voice, it would certainly be nice if she were telling the truth and truly believed in his innocence...

"The Elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way." Good grief! How much power does the man think he - one lone Mage - has to orchestrate such a thing?

"I do not believe that." Well, Cassandra is a lot like a boulder, completely immovable once she'd settled into a groove.

"That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to the serve the Chantry." He has to give Cassandra credit for not having punched the man yet.

"My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours."

It is at this point that Meldarion feels he has heard enough, and he pushes the door open, two soldiers are flanking the door at either side, while Roderick, Cassandra, and Leliana argue around a table in the center of the room.

Roderick immediately turns to the guards, "Chain him. I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial."

Cassandra glares, and issues her own orders, "Disregard that, and leave us."

The guards salute Cassandra smartly and leave without so much as a glance in Roderick's direction.

Said man is visibly seething, "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."

"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat." She declares, "I will not ignore it."

 

Leliana enters the conversation at this point, since it is evident this argument with Cassandra had likely been going on for some time, "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live."

Roderick sputters and seems aghast at what the Orlesian woman is suggesting, " _I_ am a suspect?"

 _"Ha!"_ Meldarion thinks to himself,  _"Doesn't feel so great to be randomly accused of something you probably didn't do, does it?"_

"You, and many others." Leliana responds without missing a beat.

"But _not_ the prisoner." Roderick glowers, shooting more glares in the Dalish Elf's direction.

"I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to him for help."

"So his survival, that _thing_ on his hand – all a coincidence?" Roderick demands, to which Meldarion finds himself, begrudgingly agreeing with, it just felt too...neat. There are too many unanswered questions.

And he is even more amazed when Cassandra manages to say what she says next with a completely straight face, "Providence. The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour."

And unable to stay silent any longer, Meldarion blurts out, "You realize I'm an Elf. A _Dalish_  Elf."

She turns to him with a wry, "I have not forgotten. No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it."

"The Breach remains and your Mark is our only hope of closing it." Leliana chimes in.

"This is not for you to decide." Roderick protests, although he is clearly standing on ground that isn't just shaky, but crumbling to pieces the more he tries to argue.

It is at this point, and with great effect that Cassandra slams a big heavy thick book down on the table, and she was either trying to squash a very large bug, or which is the more likely case and based on the way Roderick's face freezes into a stony scowl, of some greater symbolic significance.

"You know what this is, Chancellor?" Cassandra asks him almost sweetly, well as sweetly as steel made flesh could ask anyone, "A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

Oh, well, if that didn't just sound ominous...

Cassandra walks around the table, and actually backs Roderick up against the wall, poking him in the chest as she continues, which Meldarion has to admit, impresses him more than a little, "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval."

And with a huff, Roderick finally leaves, but the Elf suspects it likely would not be the last any of them saw of the insufferable man.

Once he'd left, Leliana exhales and lays bare their situation, "This is the Divine's directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

_Ah, well, they were off to a fantastic start then!_

"But we have no choice: We must act now." Cassandra responds, and turns expectantly to him, "With you at our side." And there is the rest of that shift, the beginnings of which he'd felt in the Valley...That he'd become something other than a prisoner...and something...more.

None of this feels quite real to him yet, and to buy some time to process, he asks questions, "What is 'the Inquisition of old,' exactly?"

Leliana is prepared with what sounds like a textbook answer, "It preceded the Chantry: People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad."

_Why must it always be a world gone mad. Couldn't it be a world that maybe went say, slightly mad and agreed not to speak to each other for a little while?_

"After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more." Cassandra goes on.

"But aren't you still part of the Chantry?" Meldarion blinks, still confused.

Cassandra actually snorts, "Is that what you see?"

"I haven't been sure about anything I've seen or heard since waking up." The Elf admits glumly, and with growing dismay.

"The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction." Leliana explains patiently.

"But _we_ cannot wait. So many grand clerics died at the conclave…No, we are on our own. Perhaps forever." Cassandra adds.

"Aren't you cheerful?" Meldarion sighs, "It sounds like you're trying to start a holy war. One I'd rather not get involved with."

Cassandra shakes her head, "We are already at war. You are already involved. Its Mark is upon you. As to whether the war is holy…that depends on what we discover."

He doubts the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but Gods damn it, he had to try, "What if I refuse?"

"You can go, if you wish." Leliana shrugs, but the  _way_ she says it, indicates that they're about to hit him with a very good reason to stay.

And he's right.

"You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty. The Inquisition can only protect you, if you are with us." Cassandra delivers said blow.

_Ah, so if he left, he'd be tried and executed._

"So, I'm being blackmailed into this?"

"We can also help _you_." Leliana says, not unkindly.

"It will not be easy if you stay, but you cannot pretend this has not changed you." Cassandra responds as honestly as she's able, although, he gets the feeling it's going to be a lot harder than just 'not easy'.

"When I woke up, I certainly didn't picture this outcome." He mutters, shoulders sagging slightly.

"Neither did we." Leliana smiles.

"Help us fix this before it's too late." Cassandra made it sound like a request, except that it isn't one. Not really. Not if he valued his life.

And ever so reluctantly, Meldarion extends his hand to meet Cassandra's, who does not disappoint with a stronger than expected grip, and she actually manages a smile that appears genuine.

"Please tell me you weren't the one to undress and bathe me."

The look on Cassandra's face and indignant squawk of, "What!?" was quite worth the risk of her wrath, and even Leliana turns away to hide a smile.

Meldarion withdraws his hand as Cassandra sputters a response, but he isn't really listening, he'd dissolved into hysterical laughter and sat down, chest and shoulders heaving, unable to stop, even as the two women grow quiet and look visibly concerned.

" _Herald of Andraste!_ " He crows, " _The Creators just want to see how badly I fuck this one up!_ " He doesn't know how long he's been laughing for, just that he's gasping for air by the end of it, and Leliana gently places her hand on his shoulder and helps him up, and it is only then that he realizes his face is wet.

"You are not alone. And we would never ask you to do any of this alone. We'd never expect such a thing from anyone." Her voice is soft, soothing even, and for a moment, reminds him, just a little bit, of Calloniel.

He never realized he could miss his clan this badly before.

"Whatever comes, we shall stand by your side, for better or worse." Cassandra nods, looking uncomfortable, and a little embarrassed to have witnessed his little breakdown.

"I'll..." Meldarion clears his throat, "I'll be fine, it's just...a lot to take in. So much has happened in a relatively short period of time."

"I agree."

An awkward moment of silence passes.

"There is much we need to do and organize," Leliana speaks up, "Why don't you take a moment to explore Haven? Or recover in your cabin? We will let you know once we are ready to proceed."

"They're...They're not still  _out there_ , are they?" He questions uncertainly, all those eyes, watching him, expecting great things from him.

"I believe most of them would have returned to their duties." Cassandra states confidently, "I can escort you to your cabin, if you like?"

"No..." Meldarion shakes his head sheepishly, "I think...I think I could use a walk to gather my thoughts..." And catching her gaze, he quickly adds, "I'm not running away, I promise."

"I never suspected you would."

"Well, that's...good then." And without another word, he leaves the room, and makes his way across the Chantry's grand hall to the large double doors at the far end of it.

"Will he really be alright?" Cassandra sighs once he's disappeared from view.

"He will have to be. And we will make certain of that." Leliana responds firmly, "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Right...And we have work to do."

"The Inquisition won't organize itself."

**Author's Note:**

> I was combing through youtube videos to check for the appropriate responses I wanted, which was an agonizingly slow process, until this saved my life:
> 
> https://dragonagetranscripts.tumblr.com
> 
> And I am eternally grateful.


End file.
